


This Blood On My Teeth

by NothingxRemains



Series: Safe With Me [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Biting, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Fix-It, M/M, Magic Stiles, Other, Polyamory, Protective Stiles, Really not sure how to tag this, Scent Marking, Stiles-centric, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingxRemains/pseuds/NothingxRemains
Summary: Between Peter's murderous nature and Stiles's sociopathic tendencies, he's not sure why he's still in this relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "The Young Heretics - I Know I'm A Wolf"
> 
> I'm not sure why I wrote this, it just sprung up in my head and I kinda just rolled with it. Explores the darker side of Stiles(like nogitsune-esque) and studies the dynamic between him, Chris, and Peter. 
> 
> The POV changing is subtle and random. Mostly stays in Chris's perspective, but it focuses on Stiles. Let me know what you think? Enjoy.

Chris and Peter were different kinds of dangerous that often clashed with each other. The hunter was cold and steady when he hunted, killing with grim determination to protect. Peter raged like a forest fire, swift and wild and always with purpose, pleased when blood coated his claws and never walking away dissatisfied. Opposites that didn't balance well.

 

Stiles was a whole different kind of dangerous. Innocuous as a spring rain at first, and then roiling with thunder until the earth trembled and the trees bowed under his will, leaving a trail of decimation in his wake. He helped Chris temper Peter’s bloodlust, and Chris focused on protecting while the werewolf helped him sow death and destruction on the ones who stepped too far, carved too close to the center of his foundation, his pack. 

 

The pack didn't understand either. Stiles was young and deceptively harmless, spasmodic and young with honey brown eyes and creamy mole-spotted skin that fooled everyone. In his downtime Peter wondered if there was an explainable cause for it, like a mental disorder. Stiles was not without his problems but he wasn't unstable, quick and calculating and fiercely, dangerously loyal. Distance grew like cancer between him and Scott since the supernatural had invaded their lives, but the fact that they hardly spoke these days never made him waver. 

 

Peter mulled this over as he watched Stiles suck all the oxygen out of the room and exchanged it with thick smoke that glanced off the concentrated bubble that flowed around the three of them. He stalked between his captives calmly as they slinked to the ground. Without oxygen they quickly lost strength and concentration, guns loaded with wolfsbane clattering to the ground. He sidestepped as one lunged at him, slipped the knife from her hands as she staggered past him and sinking it into the top of her spinal cord without so much as looking at her. 

 

Loud and flailing and energetic, Stiles is harmless. Its when he goes still and quiet, eyes going dark and a humorless smile stretching lips, pale from days of relentlessly searching and scheming and hunting without rest, that Chris has to grit his teeth to contain the tremble of fear crawling down his spine. The dead look in the kids eye, like no one but the monsters under the bed and in the closet live there now. Its taken Peter talking him down several times that's kept him from doing anything; knowing he would probably lose has never stopped him before. It’s not as easy as the flip of a switch, not a mask that he slips off when no one’s looking. The Stiles that snarks and banters and bounces with energy while he loses against Erica at Mario Kart and eats curly fries like their god given, is just as real as the Stiles that rips a witches intestines from her opened belly while she spasms helplessly on the ground because she’s casted a spell that rendered Peter senseless, blind and deaf, speechless and unable to smell and barely soothed by Chris’s touch while Stiles hunted her down, because its common knowledge that to break a spell you have to kill the witch who casted it.

 

Stiles is transitioning when they get back to Chris’s apartment. He never tries to persuade or convince or soothe Chris of his apprehensions about Stiles’s darker side, but it helps that he can see the effort Stiles makes to pull apart the mindset he’s locked into a piece at a time. It takes hours, sometimes a couple days, until he’s talking again, until his energetic tics return and he’s not sitting and staring for hours and no longer driven with purpose. Peter thinks its something like dissociating, when he gets too close and he’s suddenly on his knees with hands around his throat and empty eyes looking down at him. It takes several minutes for Stiles to process what he’s seeing, and Peter waits patiently while Stiles thumbs his jugular and flexes his hands, eases up where his nails dig into his neck like he has claws to rip Peter's throat out with. The werewolf has no obligation to do this, but he yields to Stiles for reasons he can't entirely explain, enraptured by the nature of him. 

 

His grip loosens finally but he keeps Peter there, caressing his throat and drawing a thumb over his bottom lip with the same measured slowness as before. He’s acknowledged Peter's submission but it finally clicks about what's happening. He blinks rapidly and draws away, and Peter can see him struggling out of his current headspace, fighting the white noise that's clouded his mind for the past three days. He makes an unsure sound and Peter gathers that he’s trying to apologize but can't think to, he’s not that far yet. Peter knows he’ll probably be this way for the rest of the day until they can coax him into bed to sleep, and he's usually reset back to his usual behavior by the time he wakes up. 

\--

There's a certain boldness about Stiles that always throws Chris off. In the morning when he wakes up and wanders out to find the others already awake, he grips Chris by the neck and kisses him without ceremony, a commanding air about him that makes him think of an alpha. He thinks that's why Peter submits to him, as Stiles molds himself against Peter's back in front of the stove, drags his nose up the column of his throat and grips his hips tight enough to leave bruises, even if they do heal in seconds. Chris wonders frequently how they managed to get here, why he engages with a teenager that mildly terrifies him. He thinks if he didn't know about his darker side his conscious would get the better of him and he wouldn't be doing this, wouldn't let Stiles sweep him in like a tidal wave, hugging him and kiss him until he's got him trapped against something, a wall or a bed or the couch, deceptively gentle, controlling and caging him in and fucking him with a carefully controlled aggression. He’s still waiting for the day the barrier in his mind breaks and he doesn't wait for someone to push too far to turn on everyone, until the gentle touches are replaced with an iron grip and leave more pain than pleasure and Chris becomes just another captive that Stiles has hunted. --

The alpha pack come and they try to use him as leverage. Being a hostage to a band of murderous werewolves is apparently not enough to trigger him, but between Kali’s temper and Stiles’s sharp tongue, his manipulation misfires and he gets bit. They've had him for two days and in less than six hours after she bites him he’s walking out of the bank with her and Ennis’s heads severed and bodies abandoned on the vault floor, three rescued victims trailing behind him. He takes Ennis's phone and dials Chris instead of Peter, not ready to go about any werewolves he knows learning of his new status until he handles the rest of the alphas. They drop Erica, Boyd, and Cora off at the loft for Derek to deal with and go back to the apartment. Chris is relieved to see him but he’s already locked into a dangerous mindset so he restrains himself, grimaces when Stiles eyes keep flashing red to brown, takes it in with grim resignation. But the new alpha is already at the table with all his gathered information and his laptop out. No one except Peter and Chris noticed his absence so he calls various members of the pack to ask if they've seen any of the alphas roaming around. Chris calls Peter and informs him of the situation, and he returns from where he’d been scouring the town for Stiles. He notices immediately the quiet and steadiness about him that usually spells death for their enemies, equal parts delighted and dismayed at this new development and just studies him from a little ways away, marvels at the way this persona he reverts to predominates his werewolf nature. 

 

Even though he’s been bitten for less than twelve hours Chris confirms that he’s not so much snapped at anyone or showed claw or fang. His eyes constantly flashing have been the only sign of any change. Thirteen minutes after Peter arrives Stiles slides out of his chair with all the grace of a predator stalking its target and strides out of the apartment with purpose as Chris and Peter trail behind him. 

 

Stiles has deduced that taking out Deucalion will minimize the twins as threats, so he tracks them down separately while they’re with Lydia and Danny respectively, waiting until they leave to draw their attention and beat them into unconsciousness and have Peter and Chris drive the twins’ car into an underground parking lot. After that he beelines it for the bank where Deucalion is pacing in a tightly controlled rage. 

 

It takes all three of them to bring him down, and even then its not until he sinks his claws into the meat of Chris’s calf that Stiles roars and the demon wolf bursts into flames. Peter staggers back and Chris drags himself away as the flames turn blue. It’s not slow or quiet by any means, but Stiles has gone silent and already redirected his attention, hoisting Chris into his arms, shifting him so his legs are higher than his heart and stalking out of the building. He slides into the backseat with the man still in his lap and growls at Peter to drive to the hospital, refuses to relinquish his hold until Melissa has them in a private room but at least he’s controlled enough to not give himself away to her. All Peter says is that Chris injured and now the alpha pack is no more. Even she can tell by the dark look on Stiles face and the focused silence he emits that he won't be talking any time soon. They’re home in half an hour, Peter carrying Chris upstairs after Stiles calmed down enough to put him down. He settles the injured hunter in bed and then settles next to him after Stiles snarls him away from the bedroom door. 

 

They can see he’s already begun to tear down his mental defenses as he stalks around the room, but they're not sure how being an alpha werewolf will affect him. Three hours have passed when he jerks to a stop and swivels towards them, locks onto Peter  and suddenly is there on top of them with his grip on the beta’s nape and rumbling loudly, demanding submission from him. The older man whines and Chris remembers Peter on his knees and head tilted back in submission with the teenager’s hands curled around his throat. Just like he is now, but this time Stiles leans in and his jaw closes gently around the exposed flesh, fangs sinking in just enough to leave a perfect impression of teeth. The shallow punctures have already begun to well up with blood but he soothes them away with his tongue, rumbles much less aggressively. Peter's already gone limp under his attentions, a reaffirmed pack bond singing between them. 

 

He lets the man slump back against the pillows and turns to Chris, who fights to keep all of his initial reaction in check. He’s already laid out, so he forces himself to relax his muscles and deliberately tilt his head as Stiles shifts over him. He can sense the teenager trying to be a little more restrained about it, probably because he's human and injured so he tips his head back a little more and gets aggressively scent marked, and the fangs are put away but he still gents blunt human teeth clamped down on the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and right under his jaw. It probably helps some that the whole room is saturated with their blended scents, so he’s quiet as Stiles settles atop him like he can shield him from all the dangers with his whole body and runs a hand soothingly on his back as he sinks into a not-quite sleep.

  
Chris just sighs. He’s not ready for whatever this, Stiles as a mostly human was hard not to give into his fear or  impulses as a hunter. Now he was an alpha werewolf, and they were probably going to have to explain that to Scott and the disappearance of the alpha pack  _ and _ deal with a dominance battle in front of the whole pack. None of his doubts have left and in fact now he has more, but looking down at the teenager now and remembering his protective arms carrying him out of danger, he resigns himself to knowing he'll probably be here until they send him to an early grave.


End file.
